On the Edge of that Precipice
by GeekBehindtheGlasses
Summary: First they developed their relationship emotionally and then they decided to develop it physically.  Follows on from 'Two Broken People', rated M for nudity and sex


_Author's Note: This is the next part of the post!Reichenbach Molly/Sherlock series I seem to have started writing. This is the one with nakedness and sex, but there's a lot of plot in there too. Enjoy._

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><p>"So how does this work?"<p>

Molly had been asked many difficult questions in her life, some of which she never had an answer for, but this was definitely the trickiest. Exactly how did one explain a relationship to Sherlock? It had been less than an hour since they'd kissed and now they were sitting up in her bed. They were still holding hands, Sherlock's fingers constantly shifting across the back of her hand like he needed to remind himself she was still there. Molly had her head rested on his shoulder, which wasn't all that comfortable but she didn't mind. For a little while longer she just tried to process the question in her mind before she realised she didn't really have a very good answer.

"Well," she said at last, sitting up straight and resting her head against the headboard. "I guess we've skipped the first few steps so we might need to go back to them."

"There are steps to this?" asked Sherlock, deeply confused by this idea. Molly just laughed softly and turned her head to look at him.

"Generally people date and get to know each other before they move in and sleep together."

"We haven't slept together," said Sherlock incredulously, the idea of sex still a strange one. He liked Molly, more than any other woman he'd ever dealt with, but that was still a step too far for him.

"We sleep in the same bed most nights, we have slept together. We haven't had sex, it's different." Sherlock just shrugged accepting that clearly Molly had a different interpretation of that particular idiom. "Maybe we should just start with the getting to know each other a bit better."

"Molly I sincerely doubt that me knowing all about your pet dog from childhood is going to make me any more attracted to you. Besides, your track record with small talk is usually pretty abysmal."

In an instant the atmosphere in the room changed, even Sherlock couldn't deny that. Molly pulled her hand away from his and turned her head away. That comfortable silence they'd been sat in before had evaporated, now replaced with something awkward feeling. After a moment Molly just got out of the bed and left the room without saying a word. All Sherlock could do was sit in the bed and stare at the open door. He knew he'd done something wrong, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what. What he'd said was nothing out of the ordinary for him so why would it affect her so strangely?

Eventually he clambered out of the bed and went to find Molly, locating her sat on the sofa downstairs. She was curled up like she usually was, but she seemed to be staring off into space chewing on her thumbnail absentmindedly. At first she didn't seem to even notice he'd come into the room, but as he moved into her line of vision her eyes focused on him.

"You were right, this isn't a good idea," she said quietly. "This couldn't work."

Sherlock felt like someone had just reached out and punched him hard in the stomach. This feeling was so new and strange he didn't even know how to react to it at first. He stared at Molly for a while, that sadness in her eyes and how defensive her body language was. She was certainly trying to push him out, keeping a barrier up now to protect herself, to protect herself from him.

"Molly, I don't understand," he said at last, infuriated that he couldn't figure it out himself.

"Of course you don't, human emotions usually elude you," she spat it back, anger in her voice now. "You never see how much your words can hurt people." She was angry now, furious with him. Years of his cruel taunts and jokes seemed to have gotten the better of her and she couldn't stop herself. "Do you know how many times I've cried because of things you've said? How many times I've just sat and felt so completely useless? I had depression at university, low self esteem apparently, and every time you say those things, I remember how I felt then. I do not want to feel like that. I do not want to be in a relationship with a man who makes me feels like that. So you were right, this won't work. We'd be best just trying to carry on the way we were."

Sherlock was genuinely shocked by her outburst. He knew what he said sometimes had upset her, he'd seen it quite clearly at that Christmas party, but those were her emotions to deal with. At least that was how he'd always seen it before. These past few weeks, he'd found himself caring about how she felt about things too. It seemed there was a line somewhere, a line that denoted how far he could push her before she snapped or what was deemed acceptable. He moved across to sit next to her on the sofa, but she pulled away from him. Sherlock didn't like this feeling anymore.

"I'm sorry. I say things without thinking about how it would make other people feel, it's hard to break the habit of a lifetime," he reached out and settled for resting a hand on her knee. Molly didn't pull away instantly, which he could only assume was a good thing.

"Do you want to know how these things work, how a relationship is meant to be? For a start, don't insult a person so horribly twenty minutes after kissing them for the first time. Well the first time properly, we'll try to forget that other time happened. When you're in a relationship you do actually have to think about how the other person is feeling, which I know might be difficult for you."

"I thought we weren't going to insult each other. I could be quite accommodating to John's feelings," responded Sherlock, but not too angrily as he could now see that slight smile on Molly's face.

"John said you kept human specimens in the fridge, doesn't seem that accommodating. Anyway, there's more leeway with friends, but the benefits of making up are better with a partner." She found herself giggling as she realised Sherlock had never experienced the utter joy of makeup sex, but decided not to let him in on it. "Look, I know this is going to be an interesting experience for the both of us, but if you could try not to be so mean without it being meant as a joke, I think we'll be fine."

"I think I can do that," he said, starting to smile too. It seemed they were finding common ground now, and he had to admit he much preferred to see a smile on her face.

"Good," she smiled. "Now shall I make some breakfast. Black coffee for you isn't it?"

Sherlock nodded and happily followed her to the kitchen. He wasn't entirely sure what had just happened, in fact he was fairly sure that would constitute as their first fight as a couple. Were they a couple now? Was that what this was called? Was he her boyfriend? This all seemed like a very strange concept.

"I'm sorry about reacting so badly there," she said as she filled the kettle with water. "I think I'm still a bit upset about my Dad, no need to take it out on you. You're still a git for saying those things though, so don't do it again. And I didn't have a dog."

Sherlock just stared at her having no clue where that had come from. Apparently he'd already managed to forget what he'd said to her that had caused the argument, pushed out of his head as he tried to understand this new knowledge regarding relationships. Then it came to him.

"You didn't?" he asked as she handed him the mug of coffee.

"Nope, I had a hamster. I called him Max, though I can't actually remember why." Molly sat down next to him now, taking a sip of her own coffee. "What about you?"

"No pets. Hard to have pets when Mycroft and I were away at boarding school and my parents were hardly ever at home. Besides, what was the use in developing an attachment to some fluffy thing that was going to die in a few years anyway?"

Molly chose to ignore the slightly morbid end to the tale and smiled at him.

"See, not so hard to tell me about you is it?"

Sherlock hadn't even realised what he'd done, he'd just told something about his past to Molly without even thinking about it. It was like she had some kind of strange spell on him that just made him talk. Though maybe that was the point, maybe that's what he was meant to do if he cared about her. He'd told John things about his life in passing, though usually under much more strenuous demanding of information, but this felt a little different. He looked at Molly to just find her smiling in that lovely way she had that could do nothing but make him smile too.

After that morning, it seemed they were able to move on to what most couples did first and started to get to know each other. For Molly, that wasn't really anything exciting. She'd had a fairly unremarkable life: had gone to school, gone to university, gotten a job and worked her way up to her current job. Her personal life was no more interesting, she was a middle aged woman living on her own in London, her mother was the only family she really had left and she lived down in Southampton now. It seemed she was a lot more like Sherlock than she knew, her work pretty much consumed her life and what she had in the way of friends only really consisted of those people she worked with. Really the people at the hospital were more acquaintances than friends now, she'd gotten so wary after Jim that she found herself doubting everyone. Sherlock's life was of course a lot more interesting, but he didn't like to reveal a lot of it. She always had the impression there were things he wasn't telling her, but she found his frankness about his addiction almost shocking. That seemed like no real issue for him to admit, while being honest about his family life and feelings was clearly a lot more difficult. In the end she just accepted that someday he'd tell her what she wanted to know. She was happy to wait.

The physical side of their new relationship was something that was progressing at a very slow rate. Now they would kiss, which Sherlock was starting to find was quite an enjoyable experience the more he did it. Molly liked to snuggle up next to him he was finding, which was strange at first but then he couldn't imagine what it had been like not having someone close to him. He still didn't always respond to her when she hugged him, something she insisted on doing every time she went out anywhere in the car (though usually it was a hug and a kiss), he decided he just didn't like hugging very much. When she was curled up next to him, it felt like it just fit right, like she was the puzzle piece that fit, while hugging was just having a person grab at you before pulling away. He tried to explain it to Molly one day, but she just smiled and nodded in that way she always did when she didn't quite understand things. Thankfully there was still a vein of sarcasm that she let him have, though often she was just as sarcastic back.

It strangely seemed to work, this odd little relationship they'd formed. Not that either them had a lot to base it on. Molly's relationships were usually only a few dates long and the last time she'd had a relationship, it turned out she was dating a psychotic maniac. Sherlock had nothing to base it on, except the odd contrived romance he'd seen on those awful shows John watched sometimes. Somehow though they found the balance and created something that most people would probably have found strange.

They did not go any further than share a bed when it came to nocturnal activities, so far Sherlock had shown no interest in sex so far. Molly imagined he hadn't yet figured out the point in it or something like that. She had to admit, she didn't actually mind, she had never been obsessed with sex it was just one those things she sometimes enjoyed. So far she hadn't even mentioned it to him, quite happy to just have him snuggled up behind her most nights. One night though she found Sherlock had decided to rest his chin on her shoulder with one hand on her exposed hip. It was a nice feeling she had to admit, his long finger just lightly resting on her skin and his head turned just enough so she could feel his warm breath on her neck. Taking a deep breath, she moved her hand so it came to rest upon the hand Sherlock had on her hip.

"I know we never talk about it, but what are your feelings towards...physical intimacy?" she asked it quietly, not sure if she was saying the right thing at all. She felt Sherlock stir next to her, moving his long legs around so he was more comfortable.

"I'm not sure yet, I believe that is something we should take slowly. I would like to get to know your body a little more." That wasn't quite the response she had expected, but it was a strangely nice idea. She didn't even get as far as coming up with a response before he moved so he could kiss her neck. They were soft, gentle kisses, pressing each carefully in a trail down her neck till he reached her shoulder. Molly took his hand that was rested on her hip and slid it gently up her side, pushing her pyjama top up

That was when he pulled away from, pushing the covers off him and kneeled in the centre of the bed. Molly rolled over, sad at the loss of contact but pulled herself up so she was kneeling opposite him. Sherlock nodded towards the lamp on the table next to the bed, so Molly leaned across to turn it on. Thankfully it was one of those touch lamps with graduated lighting, so she left it at the lowest setting. It cast a soft glow across the room, now they could see each other in the previously pitch black room. They just looked at each other, trying to read the others face, for a while. Their knees were touching where they knelt, Sherlock with his straight back while Molly had slouched down to be more comfortable. That seemed to speak volumes, the always straight man Sherlock and the relaxed Molly. Thinking about that idea made Molly smile which in turn made Sherlock tilt his head to one side as he tried to figure out what had made her smile.

Molly reached out first, touching his hand and then brushing her fingers across the soft material of his pyjama top. Sherlock watched her and was fascinated by the play of emotions on her face, from soft smile to curious look to a devious smirk. Soon her fingers had worked their way up his arm, down the collar and she stopped on the top button of his shirt. Looking up at his face, Sherlock just nodded to her to give his consent. Molly's other hand reached out now and began to slowly loosen the buttons, pushing the material off his shoulders when she was done. He had one of those well toned torso's she had always prayed a man she dated would have, thin but not in an unattractive way. Without even realising she'd done it, she reached out and let her fingers trace their way across the defined lines of his abs. That was how she felt him suddenly inhale sharply before she heard it, which made her look at him with a smile. He seemed he might actually like being touched or that he was ticklish and trying very hard to hide it.

Now her hands moved up, palms sliding over his chest to his broad shoulders. Then she let her hands run down her arms but she stopped when her fingers touched the crease at his elbow. There she could feel the scars that told of years of drug use. When she looked up at Sherlock, he seemed uncomfortable so she took her hands away from his arms.

"Sorry," she said softly.

"What have you to be sorry for? I'm the one who took the drugs. These remind me of what it was like and hopefully convince me to never try it again." There was optimism in his voice, like he really was determined not to touch drugs again. Molly had seen plenty of overdose cases, had learnt about the psychology of addicts long ago at university but she really believed him when he said he wouldn't go back. If anything was going to make him relapse, she was sure it would have been these past few months, but she saw no sign of drug abuse.

Sherlock's hands were on her arms now, resting just below the sleeve of her t-shirt. He let his hands move down slowly as he tried to understand every inch of her skin. He found little to report though, an injection scar on her left arm and after that nothing but smooth skin. The hair on her arms was fine and soft and by the time he reached her wrists he knew he could stop, he had learnt plenty about her hands after all the time they'd held hands as they sat together. Now he reached out for the hem of her shirt, but Molly pushed his hands away. He looked confused, and a little hurt at that, like a child who'd had a toy taken away. She just smiled and then pulled the top over her head herself.

"No matter how sexy it looks in films, it never works if a guy tries to take a t-shirt off a girl," she said with a smile and then laughed. Sherlock was mesmerised by the way her breast moved when she laughed, which made Molly feel strangely self conscious. It was the way he just stared, as though he could analyse them. But then, Sherlock hadn't seen much in the way of breasts in his life. The last time had been Irene Adler and that had all been for display and shock value. Molly was just sitting there, no pretence or need to show off, blushing a little at the way he looked at her.

Sherlock reached out one hand and placed it gently on her shoulder before drawing it across her collarbone. Again, the skin there was soft and smooth as he let his fingers dance lightly across. Then he couldn't really resist the urge to reach out both hands and run them down the side of each breast. Her nipples were hard, though whether that was the cold air or arousal he wasn't sure. As his hands moved back up, he let his thumbs brush over her nipples, with elicited a sudden, but pleasurable, gasp. Sherlock's eyes shot back up to look at her face. She was biting her lip and just staring at him, pupils starting to dilate. If it had been cold air affecting her before, now it was certainly arousal. This was a new sensation, the ability to provide pleasurable stimulation and garner such a response. There was a whole new world of experimentation waiting for him, he could see that now. But not yet, he wanted to keep getting to know her body better before he considered going any further. Sherlock let his hands drift down to her hips, exposed now that her pyjama trousers had slipped down. He let his thumbs rub over her skin as he looked over her abdomen. Again there were no marks or blemishes to speak of, just smooth pale skin.

Their eyes came to meet again and they just sat there for a while, both shirtless and both trying to decide what to do next. Eventually Sherlock pulled his hands away from her, the sudden loss of his touch making her brain scream out for more. There was this part of her that just wanted to throw her body at him and kiss him fiercely and see what happened from there. But this was all so new to Sherlock; she could imagine he was already pretty overwhelmed by it all. In fact, he was very overwhelmed. There were so many new feelings and sensations to analyse and understand. In the end he looked up at Molly and smiled sheepishly.

"I need to process all of this," he said, the words sound strange as he said them. It sounded so impersonal, which was what he was normally like, but he didn't want it to sound like that. Molly just smiled though.

"I told you, we can take this as slowly as you need. Now I'm getting cold, so are we getting back under the covers?"

Sherlock nodded and watched as Molly just settled herself back down into the same position she'd been in. She didn't bother to put the discarded top back on, it clearly didn't bother her. Shuffling round, he managed to get back to where he had been lying and pulled the covers back up over them. When his hand draped lazily around her waist this time, his fingers brushed the bare skin of her abdomen and he found himself starting to draw little patterns. Molly let out a giggle and muttered something about being ticklish. Sherlock smiled and moved closer so that his torso was pressed up against her naked back. There was something nice about that feeling of bare skin touching bare skin, though he couldn't really describe what was so nice about it. Once again, feelings and emotions were doing things he didn't really understand, but slowly he was starting to just accept them and get on with it.

When Sherlock awoke the next morning, he found that he and Molly had ended up lying facing each other yet again. Molly was already awake, smiling at him as he opened his eyes.

"Please tell me you weren't watching me sleep. I've watched TV programs. That's how it starts before the women go insane and refuse to let a man out of their sight for a second and then kill them and dump the body parts."

Molly slapped him lightly on the arm and the smile became a grin.

"You have clearly watched very bad television," she said, sitting up in the bed.

"It was John's choice of programming," he responded, sitting up too. Turning to look at her, Molly swooped in and kissed him on the lips.

"I need a shower," she said as she pulled away before clambering out of the bed. Sherlock just watched her as she walked towards the door, marvelling at how the top half of her body looked as she moved around. "Now you're being the creepy one, staring at me as I walk around topless."

Sherlock wasn't given the chance to respond as she disappeared out of the room. For a while he just lay there thinking about Molly, listening to the sound of the shower, before he came to a decision. Kicking the covers off him, he wandered down the hall to the bathroom and found the door was unlocked. When he entered the bathroom, he was instantly engulfed in a haze of steam. Molly apparently liked her showers at a temperature slightly lower than scalding. She also hadn't failed to notice that Sherlock had decided to enter the bathroom, the frosted effect on the shower screen couldn't really hide that he was there.

Sticking her head around the side of the screen, wet hair dripping onto the side of the bath, she smiled at him. "Coming to join me?"

In Sherlock's mind, this seemed like a perfectly practical way of exploring the rest of Molly's body. Plus it would be much warmer than in the bedroom in the middle of the night. When he nodded his assent, Molly disappeared back behind the screen. As she stripped off the rest of his clothes, he found himself watching her through the screen. It didn't tell him much though, other than the fact she liked to stand right under the shower head. Finally, he wandered over to the bath and climbed over the side to join Molly in the shower.

Molly couldn't help but feel jealous that Sherlock could so easily step over the side of the bath, his long legs so graceful. She also couldn't help but take a quick peek at his groin as he came to stand in front of her and she had to admit she liked the look of what she found. Then her eyes came back up to meet his, a soft smile on his lips and an inquisitive look in his eyes.

"I would like to keep getting to know your body," he said at last. Molly let out a little giggle, and then clamped a hand over her mouth. She couldn't sound more like a teenage girl with a crush if she tried. Sherlock reached up and pulled her hand away from her mouth before leaning in to kiss her gently. Molly was sure this was the most wonderful feeling she'd ever had, steam swirling around her as a handsome naked man kissed her, and it made her weak at the knees. When Sherlock moved back, she put a hand on the cold wall to steady herself, the sudden icy feeling of the tiles also helping to clear her head.

Sherlock found himself observing Molly, noting her apparent need to hold onto a stable surface. It seemed she very much liked being kissed in the shower, or maybe it was just the effect of them both being naked. He had to admit even he found there was a strange new feeling starting to surface when he considered Molly's naked form. First he found his eyes settling on the curve of her hips, there was something alluring that made him want to put his hands just there and touch her damp skin. A sudden movement from Molly made him snap out of his observations with a glare. She was leaning across to pick up a shampoo bottle from a little shelf next to her.

"If you are going to stand there looking at me, I am going to carry on having my shower, ok?" she asked, holding the shampoo bottle up to him as if to make her point extra clear.

"Of course," he smiled. Molly squeezed some shampoo into her hand, put the bottle back and turned around to start massaging the flower scented liquid into her hair. This gave Sherlock the chance to admire the back of her now. He watched the way her shoulder blades moved as she massaged the shampoo in, his gaze fixed as a drop of the foam formed a trail down her back. He took note of her rear, but quickly decided that he found her breasts much more interesting. The skin on her thighs was not the same smooth skin as on the rest of her body, there were little bumps and ridges. He studied them closely, realising that this was probably that thing called cellulite. It certainly wasn't as ugly as women in those vapid magazines made out, he found himself fascinated by those little dimples in her skin. The cellulite was confined to her thighs though, and the skin on her calves down to her narrow ankles was smooth. In fact it was very smooth. "Have you been shaving your legs?"

"Yes," replied Molly, turning round to face him. "I just prefer to have them shaved, it's nothing special you need to try and understand."

Sherlock didn't say anything; he just continued to admire her quite beautiful body as she tipped her head back to wash the shampoo out of her hair. There was something about seeing her neck exposed just so that made him want to dart forward and start kissing her. He could try to find that exact spot that would be the most pleasurable for her, to hear her let out that little gasp that he had heard last night. He was starting to like this idea more and more, even going so far as to formulate the plan of attack in his head, when Molly tipped her head forward again so she was looking straight at him.

"Swap," she said, trying to pull him past her so he was under the water. He just looked at her without moving and she realised she wasn't going to be able to pull him past her. "If you get to stare at me while I shower, I believe you owe me the same courtesy." He understood now so quickly switched places with her. He tried not to yelp as the hot water hit the front of him as that certainly wouldn't have been something Molly would give up on when it came to teasing him. When he went to turn around, she put a hand on his shoulder to keep him turned away. Apparently she wanted to look at the back of him first, so he just stood there under the water letting his hair get wet.

Molly took the time to let her eyes wander down his back, so nice and pristine and oh how she could imagine running her nails down it when they did have sex. She let her gaze linger on his rear, but given how tight his trouser were he hadn't exactly left a lot to the imagination. Then she saw the thin silver line of scar tissue on his right thigh. Lifting one foot, she let her toes run down the length of the scar. With one hand still on Sherlock's shoulder, she felt him stiffen a little as she did it. When he began to turn, Molly moved her hand so he could turn.

"What happened?" she asked, knowing full well she might not get an answer from him.

"It was a while ago. I thought the man I had been dealing with was unconscious on the floor, but as soon as I turned my back he pulled out a knife and stabbed me in the leg. He didn't get very far when he tried to run though; he'd forgotten I had Lestrade and most of his division following us." Sherlock cracked a smile at the memory of it all; the look of horror on the man's face when he turned the corner and ran straight into a very angry looking Lestrade who then looked even more furious when he saw the blood coming from Sherlock's leg. It had been easy enough to clean up and stitch; now there was just a thin scar to remind him not to turn his back on still armed criminals. When he looked at Molly, he could see she looked concerned but there was also a slight smile. It seemed she was also imagining that man's face as he ran straight into the arms of London's finest.

They were stood close together now, bodies almost touching. The hand Molly had had on his shoulder was now resting on his chest. For reasons Sherlock couldn't quite process he was breathing harder and his pulse was starting to race. Then he remembered what Irene had looked like around him and it was so clear. This was desire; he really truly wanted Molly like he had never wanted another person in his life. That was when a more primal instinct kicked in and he began to kiss her. It was a little harder than usual, a little more urgent. One hand instantly reached out to rest on her hip, while Molly's hand moved off his chest so she could wrap an arm around his neck. That pulled them even closer together and when Sherlock realised her breasts were pressed against his chest, it was like a jolt up his spine.

When Molly pulled out of the kiss, Sherlock actually pouted at the loss of contact between them. That look was something new for her, making her love him just a little bit more.

"Sherlock, may I suggest out first time does not take place in a shower. It will probably end badly."

As she said it, she reached behind him with her free hand and turned off the shower. When she clambered out of the bath, she quickly rubbed herself down with the towel she'd set to one side. Sherlock was much less graceful this time, his legs not really operating the way he wanted them to. Molly threw the towel to him and he dried himself in record time. When she glanced down she realised why, he was starting to get hard.

Molly took him by the hand and pulled him along to the bedroom, making sure to shut the door behind him. Of course as soon as she was turned to face him again, he was kissing her with that same urgency. It appeared that Sherlock Holmes had finally discovered he actually had a sex drive and was now determined to make the most of it. He was also trying to walk her backwards towards the bed. She wanted to stop and tell him how much of a bad idea that was going to be, but the kiss was so good she forgot until she found herself crashing into the bottom of the bed. Having hit it at a bit of a speed, she lost her balance and fell backwards onto the bed.

Sherlock just stared at her as she lay there looking thoroughly confused. Then she started to laugh and couldn't seem to stop. Sherlock had no idea what was going on, but now he was the confused one. When Molly finally caught her breath, she smiled up at him.

"Maybe we should have stayed in the shower; apparently we are just as clumsy when not near slippery surfaces."

Even Sherlock had to smile at that, she was quite right they were turning out to be quite clumsy. Eventually, Molly pushed herself up so she was properly on the bed without her legs dangling off the end and held out her hand towards Sherlock. He took hold of her hand nervously, it seemed the initial rush might be starting to wear off, but Molly saw to that by practically pulling him on top of her. Now they were a strange tangle of limbs and all they could focus on was trying to kiss each other. Sherlock wished he could make his mind stop racing, to try and enjoy every little sensation he was feeling and to study Molly's reactions, but he couldn't get past just wanting her. He was hard and he ached and just needed to feel her and be with her.

Eventually Molly had to push Sherlock up a little so they could both stop and take stock of what they were doing.

"Do you want to do this?" she asked, knowing the question probably sounded ridiculous at this point, but she needed to hear him say it.

"Yes," he replied, his voice low and husky. "I want to do this."

Molly nodded and reached towards the bedside table, rooting around in the drawer until she found a condom. When she held it out towards him, he looked genuinely confused by the little packet.

"I am very forgetful when it comes to my pill," she sighed, waiting for it to dawn on him. Of course, Sherlock once again didn't get it. "We need protection so I don't get pregnant." Spelling it out to him apparently worked as he snatched it out of her hands and pushed himself up so he was kneeling. "You do know how to put that on, right?"

The withering glare Sherlock gave her was enough to make her stop talking, though she had to cover her mouth to stop herself from giggling. This was certainly not quite what she'd ever pictured when it came to having sex with Sherlock, but she didn't mind. It was the most relaxed she'd ever felt given that it was her first time with someone. When Sherlock pulled her hand away from her mouth, she smiled as he loomed over once again. He leaned down to kiss her again, but this was a long, lingering kiss. Sherlock certainly still wanted her, but he wanted to enjoy it and wanted her to enjoy it too. When he moved his head to start kissing her neck, he certainly found that ideal spot to kiss to make her gasp. Letting his teeth graze over her skin gave an even better response, the hand she had rested on his shoulder tightening until he could feel nails digging into his skin.

That had quite the effect on Sherlock as well, those feelings of lust and need bubbling back up to the surface. He nudged Molly's legs apart a little wider while he began to kiss her hard again. Then everything went a little hazy as he realised there was a hand that certainly wasn't his own on his penis. It was the first time that had happened before and his eyes went a little out of focus as he tried to process that new sensation. Molly smiled up at his slightly blank face before pushing herself up a little to kiss him on the cheek.

"You're getting a little lost in the moment there, let me help," she said softly, slowly manoeuvring him until he realised he was now positioned ready to enter her. His eyes went wide and he just stared at her, this was that moment he had never really expected to happen. When Molly saw his face, she reached up and stroked his face. "We can stop you know, if this is all too much."

There was such compassion and kindness in her eyes, even as they were lying there right on the edge of that precipice, that Sherlock found himself wondering what he'd done in his life to earn him someone so wonderful. Leaning down, he planted a soft kiss on her lips and smiled. "I want to do this. I want to do this right now with you." Molly nodded, squeezing his shoulder gently where before she had dug her nails in.

Sherlock was so slow to start with, trying to catalogue every single sensation and feeling, but it was all so intense that his brain just couldn't process it. For once in his life, he decided to just let go of all his logic and rationale and give in to emotions. Soon he found a good rhythm; Molly was digging her fingers in at his shoulder and biting her lip. It seemed she was enjoying it and he certainly was. Leaning down he tried to kiss her, but they just ended up bumping heads together awkwardly, their lips sort of brushing but not quite kissing. Molly laughed again, the vibration of her body spreading down to where they were joined, which it turned out was strangely pleasant. Sherlock laughed too, pressing his forehead against hers. Never in all his life had he imagined that the first time he had sex he would find himself laughing so much, but it felt so right to be laughing with Molly even as they were having sex.

Soon, there was this strange intense feeling starting to form in his stomach and a pressing need to speed up his rhythm. It seemed Molly was feeling the same as she suddenly moaned loudly, her head tilting back as the thrusts came faster. Sherlock couldn't help but lean down and start kissing her neck, soon finding that spot that made her moan even more. Now there was a hand in his hair pulling a little harder than he would have liked, but the extra stimulation as actually making everything feel better.

Then it was like he was in freefall. He let out a little cry of something; he wasn't even sure what it was before finding his arms couldn't really hold him anymore. He crashed down on top of Molly, who let out a little squeak at his full weight suddenly being on her. Sherlock didn't feel like he could catch his breath, it didn't make any sense. It felt nice he was sure of that, but that was about all he could fathom. Molly had started hitting him on the shoulder so he let his eyes focus on hers.

"While I am very happy to know you've enjoyed yourself," she said with a smile. "Could you please get off me, I can't breathe."

Sherlock stared at her for a moment before it dawned on him he really was just laying on her. He managed to pull out before he rolled to one side and just lay on his back breathing hard. Molly just watched him for a while, watched as he closed his eyes and started to breathe more normally. Propping herself up on one side, she let her other hand reach out and touch his arm gently. His eyes snapped open and he rolled over to look at her.

"Is that what's meant to happen?" he asked at last, fairly sure that that was what he had read was the general ending to a sexual encounter. Molly let out that little laugh she only used when Sherlock was confused by something, that one that made her wrinkle her nose a little.

"Yes, don't worry you did everything right." Molly tried to ignore the part of her brain that was screaming that she had just taken Sherlock Holmes virginity, instead just focusing on those wide eyes that seemed to be starting to comprehend that perhaps this whole sex lark was quite good.

"But you didn't..." Sherlock didn't even finish the statement, not even sure what he was meant to say. Then Molly had that little smirk on her face, that one that always meant there was something devious in her mind

"Oh Sherlock, we've got all the time in the world to figure that out, don't worry."

Without even realising it, Sherlock had reached up and taken hold of the hand on his arm. They just lay there for a while, looking at each other and holding hands. Molly had never really had this before, this quiet moment afterwards were everything just felt right. She was sure there were going to be times when this didn't happen, but for now she was quite content. Sherlock was still marvelling at it all, trying to find ways for his mind to understand everything that had happened. Every sensation, every feeling and every emotion had to be properly analysed and catalogued away in his mind. For now though, he was finding he couldn't stop just looking at Molly and her still flushed face and her wild looking hair.

"So what you are saying," said Sherlock after a while. "Is that there is even more experimentation to be done when it comes to sexual intercourse?"

There was a glint in his eyes and Molly realised he was actually quite excited about doing this again. He actually wanted to have sex with her again. That was when Molly launched herself at him a little and started to kiss him again.

"Of course," she cried out happily.

Sherlock reached across to grab her waist and pull her towards him. Sadly when he rolled back a little, he had miscalculated how close he now was to the edge of the bed and found himself tumbling off. Of course he pulled Molly with him and now found himself pinned to the floor by her. She was laughing so hard.

"We really need to stop being so clumsy though," she said happily, still laughing a little. She pushed herself up until she was straddling his waist and Sherlock found that he quite liked this view. "You're staring again."

"I'm just intrigued as to how this position would work out," he said slyly. Molly had to admit she hadn't really noticed how they were now positioned, but she could only smirk deviously when she realised.

"Oh I'm sure we can figure that out at some point." She leaned forward as she spoke, until her face hovered above his and her hair fell down in untidy waves. "But right now, I want some breakfast."

With that, she rolled off him, grabbed the dressing gown from the back of the door and wandered out of the room. Sherlock just lay on the floor for a while feeling both aroused and a little lost. It appeared that Molly could be quite the tease if she wanted to be, and he was realising he might actually like that. There were still plenty of things to explore in the emotional side of this relationship, but he could see that the physical side of things was going to get very fun. In fact, he wondered to himself, wasn't there always that scene in those terrible films John watched where the lovers would get all passionate in the kitchen?

Finally getting to his feet, he managed to find a pair of boxers to pull on before heading down towards the kitchen with some devious ideas in mind.


End file.
